


A Game of Nerves

by StrangerHarringroves



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bisexual Steve Harrington, Explicit Sexual Content, Eye Sex, Gay Billy Hargrove, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 00:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20591933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangerHarringroves/pseuds/StrangerHarringroves
Summary: HarringroveEveryone loves a gamble, especially when there money at stake. Several of the boys from Hawkins get together to do just that. Billy and Steve have another game to play...It's risky. Dangerous. It's fucking hot. There's seven of them around the table and plenty of cash up for grabs. If they got caught... BUT oh, something about that possibility sends a jolt of excitement through Steve. Without his consent, his legs part, hips shifting forward...





	A Game of Nerves

**Author's Note:**

> Born from another filth request on tumblr (my username is harringrovisms) . I like things a little risqué now and again.
> 
> Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated 😊

The dice skitters across the game board and lands on a six. Tommy lifts a gleeful gaze as he picks up his pawn and jumps it to the designated place. Steve watches Billy roll his eyes as another bill is added to the small fortune accumulating where Tommy's elbow rests. Of course they're playing for real money and it would have been fine if they weren't being thrashed abysmally. The dice is passed to Trevor Marshall. 

Steve absently taps the neck of his bud, perspiring drops rolling down the tinted glass, wetting his fingers. Then heat. He feels something glide over his leg, hand moving across his thigh. Billy constantly complains how cold Hawkins is, but his touch is always hot, leaking warmth, exuding promise. Steve doesn't understand it—but he loves how his hand bleeds through the denim, boils his blood. His palm rests near his crotch, fingers gently massaging soft sensitive skin, motions soothing and stimulating.

Trevor and Tommy debate the game as Steve swallows a harsh inhale, barely tempering his breath. Fingers press into the bottle, inscribing his prints while being slowly overwhelmed with hormonal bursts and almost ticklish sensations. The problem is Billy knows exactly what he's doing, which spots inspire twitches and shudders, what strokes make his body go weak and his cock swell. And he can do it all without batting a eyelash, without skipping a beat, without giving away a goddamn thing.

The bastard.

David's turn now. Billy maintains a collected and casual expression, gaze wandering aimlessly as if he didn't have a hand on the growing mound in Steve's jeans. Touches encroach on the bulge, rubbing harder to compensate for the thicker material, a finger running along the closed zipper. Finally, he glimpses the dark eyes fixed upon him, and his lips quirk into a smirk. Pride brims in his own eyes, relishing the conflicting cocktail of emotions etched on Steve's face. He admires every detail—dark brows raised in surprise, a subtle blush dusting pale cheeks,.. Billy fights a misplaced chuckle before biting his lip. Where Billy is concerned, a lip bite is never just that; it's a question: Continue?

There's obnoxious laughter across the table, a hoot of celebration but Steve's mind is as far away from the game as possible. His mind is acutely aware of the blood rushing down, gorging his veins, swelling his cock. He thinks about Billy petting over his clothed erection, teasing him incessantly, coaxing him to full hardness. He thinks about how easy it would be for Billy to simply undo his pants, grip him at the shaft, and jerk him off under the table. 

It's risky. Dangerous. It's fucking hot. There's seven of them around the table and plenty of cash up for grabs. If they got caught... BUT oh, something about that possibility sends a jolt of excitement through him. Without his consent, Steve's legs part, hips shifting forward. It's enough for Billy to continue. His fingers skillfully navigate past the zip and buttons of Steve's confines and through the opening of his boxers to brush through the coarseness of his pubic hair. Steve smoulders.

Billy's fingers perform a tantalising dance along the underside of his cock, touch like molten silk. Then he grips him, pulls him out and with a twist of the wrist that ignites Steve's bones, he gives one slow but tantalising stroke. 

Steve wants to be loud. His expression pained as he bites his tongue to trap the noise, almost choking on a groan. He takes a desperate sip from his bud, washing away any other sound that may want to emerge and rocks his hips up, just so. Billy's in a rhythm now, lips pursed but gaze directed elsewhere. On the next upwards glide, his thumb extends, nudging over the flushed head and pressing until enough pre-come oozes out that he can swipe it up and spread it. It drives Steve mad. Down, twist, up, swipe - the cadence fo Billy's hand is varying and Steve wants to sob. He wants be vocal. He wants to drag his lips over the shell of Billy's ear and tell him how good it feels then bite into his neck. He wants to touch him back and he does. 

His movements are much more clumsy than Billy's but he thanks the higher powers that as always, the latter has neglected to wear underwear. There's not a lot of room under the table and he's at risk of bumping the surface but he wants Billy to get off too. Soon the thickness of him is in his hand and Steve is delighted to find him already wet. For the first time that night, Billy falters, a sweat breaking out on his brow and warmth flooding up through his chest and neck to settle on his cheeks. Steve's hand is cramping a little with the awkward position but he strokes him good all the same, mirroring Billy's technique to the best of his ability. 

Steve is two turns away from needing to roll the dice and until then he hopes the others remain oblivious, caught up in their own arguments and boyish banter. He's getting close and it's getting harder to remain casual. His free hand squeezes the bottle, Billy seems to know and brushes his finger tips over his balls. That does it. The beer sloshes a little as he comes, hips jerking and teeth clenched. 

The wet sensation of Steve spilling over his fingers is enough for an already painfully aroused Billy and despite that Steve's hand had momentarily stilled, he rolls his hips into the friction to aid his own release, body tensing as he comes in heavy spurts. What follows is a quick clean up using the inside of their jeans to get the worst of their fingers. Billy excuses himself to use the bathroom leaving Steve to take his turn of the dice. When Billy returns, their eyes lock for a fraction, laced with promises of more when they get home. 

It doesn't matter that Tommy won and will likely gloat for the rest of the week. It doesn't matter that the cassette Billy wanted will have to go on hold for a while. For Steve, they'd already won at a far more dangerous game where the rewards were far more delicious and he couldn't wait to play again.


End file.
